Louise Labe

(1524 - 1566 / France)

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Sonnet VII

All love is seen to fade and pass away.
When soul blends body by most subtle art,
I am the body, you the better part.
But O my well-loved soul, why did you stray ?

Why can't I always swoon with pleasure in
Your arms? My love, my better part, my soul,
O rescue me from drowning, even though
I know so well how badly I have sinned.

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